"It's the quiet ones that cause the most trouble."
Introductions
Full Name: Oliver David Jones
Nickname: Oli [those closest to him],
Oliver [most people]
22748 [Psi-database number]
Age: 18
Gender: Male
Sexual Orientation: Homosexual
Faceclaim: Lucky Blue Smith
Hex: #2B3B57
On the Outside
Appearance:
Oliver is about five foot eleven inches tall and weighs about one hundred and sixty seven pounds. He has pale blonde hair and bright blue eyes. His skin is pale in color and has a very light dusting of freckles. He likes to keep the top of his hair longer than the sides. He has dark eyebrows and full lips. He has no tattoos or piercings, but hopes that if the world rights itself again, he may get tattoos in the future. While in the camp, he wore the "uniform" of grey sweat shirts and sweat pants with color indicators to tell he's blue. Out of the camp, however, he wears a leather jacket, jeans, and hiking boots.
On the Inside
Personality:
Oliver is very quiet. He speaks when he feels he needs to and tends to lend himself more to the backgrounds of situations. However, he isn't shy. He just prefers to observe. He isn't one to easily trust with his personal life, but if he trusts you, it means he's attached to you; that you mean something to him. He'll have your back from the moment he feels you're worth it and if you break his trust, there's no getting it back. He can be a bit arrogant at times, but with a face like that, who wouldn't be? Although, if he was being totally honest it's more of an act to hide his fear of rejection. He's not one to lead, but will do so if he has to.
Habits:
- Paces and cracks his knuckles when he's thinking
- Taps his fingers together when he's nervous
- Grinds his teeth when he's angry
- Blue
- Telekinesis. He can move objects using his mind. He has to be able to see the object in order to move it and cannot lift very large things like houses and buildings, but can toss a car or downed tree with enough concentration.
Likes/Loves:
â Boots â Blue and Black â His leather jacket â Sweets â Music â Sleep â His ability â Cool weather â the night sky â combat â Being clean â Climbing Trees â Watching â Animals â Movies
Dislikes/Hates: â Running â driving â lightning â Psi-static â Mistakes â combat â impossible situations â Being lied to â Almonds â Being used â Skip Tracers â Missing out on growing up
The Past
Biography
History:
Oliver Jones was born in Bozeman, Montana. Surrounded by crisp air and mountains. He lead a pretty normal childhood with the usual ever changing goal of what he wanted to do with his life. Astronaut, Fire Fighter, Doctor, Lawyer, Rockstar, etc. He never really chose one because he thought he'd have the rest of his life to plan. He just wanted to be a kid. He was eleven when I.A.A.N took it's first victim, and twelve when it hit him. At first, he thought it was the flu. He felt too warm and sick to his stomach, but refused to tell his parents how he felt because he knew it would make them worry. He knew they would be afraid he would die. Besides, it was movie day at school, and he didn't want to miss out on whatever sugary sweet film they put on to help distract from the disaster around them. When he got to school and found out one of his best friends wasn't going to school anymore, that they couldn't, he didn't completely understand. He couldn't. Because it meant accepting that his best friend had died and it wasn't something a twelve year old could handle. Instead, he grew angry. When he slammed his fist down on his desk, his pencils went flying. Not to the floor like one would think, but at the chalkboard and at other students. He was quickly brought to the principals office where he repeatedly apologized and said he probably hit the desk too hard. The principal made a phone call, but it wasn't to his parents. It was to the Psi Special Forces. They took him from the school, from Bozeman, and all the way to Virginia. To Thurmond. The biggest, oldest, and most well known "camp" in the country.
He spent four years behind those walls before he was transferred to another, smaller facility a few cities over where he heard word of a breakout. At first, he just listened. He gathered information and decided whether or not he wanted to join in on their suicide mission. Eventually, he decided that dying trying to gain his freedom was better than being locked inside of a cage for the rest of his life. He was already eighteen and there was no sign of getting out. It was time, he was ready, and they were going to get out. Or die trying.
